Eventually, Marty Mcfly stopped going back to 1985.
I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.
200 ft: Aaaaaaaaa, bump 2 ft: Bump, aaaaaaaaa (Yes, it's an old, really old joke. Surprisingly haven't seen it here, yet.)
Take his spade away.
Stop fallowing me!
Too many Tannens.
He turns off his Xbox, and goes to bed.